Secrets of the Weasley Clan
by Nyeerg
Summary: Drabbles to the theme of "Things the Weasley parents would never have known about their children."
1. Molly

A/N: To my ST and Kingdom Hearts readers: I haven't abandoned any of my fics. I'm on a HP kick and I'm going to get all of the stories out of my system before going back to my usual fandoms. Sorry!

To all readers: This will be a drabble collection of all the Weasley kiddies, and possibly Lorcan and Lysander and Scorpius and whoever else you all want to see, if anybody. Got something specific or an idea that fits the theme? Let me know!

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1) Molly lives for Quidditch.  
Molly discovered quidditch at a family gathering at the ripe old age of six. Percy, of course, was none the wiser, having holed himself up at work. Bill and Charlie decided to let her have a go at a truly ancient Comet from the shed, and soon had to go after her when she went straight up and refused to come back down.

At the age of eight and a half, she borrowed a Beater's bat from George, and sent Victoire flying off her broom.

Thing is, Molly was about four feet off the ground, and Victoire was somewhere in the vicinity of fifty. And the bludger? Specially charmed so the kids wouldn't get hurt.

Grandma Molly was so stunned when she watched it happen that she forgot to yell at Molly for hurting her cousin, and Victoire was so impressed (she got a concussion, for Merlin's sake) that she bought Molly a bat of her own for her ninth birthday.

Molly made the Gryffindor team as a third year, after taking all of second year to convince Percy to let her play.

He did so on her promise that once she graduated, she would give up Quidditch and go into Healing.

Molly still wasn't too sure, as graduation approached, how to tell her father that the Holyhead Harpies had signed her as a reserve Beater for a two year contract.


	2. Albus

2) Albus can't stand being thought of as his father's clone.  
At the train station, when he left for his first year at Hogwarts, Albus was terrified of being sorted into Slytherin.

Once he boarded the train, his opinion changed. He and Rose ended up in a cabin with three other first years. The very first thing they all asked was "what's it like being Harry Potter's son?"

Albus' answer of "it's like being anybody else's son, really" did not go over well.

Hagrid the half-giant was still on first-year duty, and Albus had the misfortune to make it ahead of all the other first years to where Hagrid was standing with his lantern.

"Ye look jus' like yer ol' dad did at yer age," Hagrid told him with a clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked Albus off his feet (and off the train platform). Albus smiled weakly and squeaked out "oh, really? I had no idea." After all, it wasn't like he'd heard that his entire life or anything, from everybody who knew his dad as a kid and a great deal of people who didn't.

He somehow managed to get shoved to the front of the pack of first years once they arrived at the castle, and was met with the venerable Professor Flitwick, who smiled hugely at him and said, "Ah, another Harry Potter! A chip off the old block, no doubt what house you'll be in!"

That was when Albus made the decision to ask the Sorting hat to place him somewhere, _anywhere_, but Gryffindor.

James looked downright stunned when the Hat placed him in Slytherin.

Rose hugged him on her way to take her place at Ravenclaw, and whispered, "A right chip off the old block now? You show them, Al!"

Albus could hardly suppress his manic grin for the rest of the night.

Well, most of the night. When he reached the Slytherin first year dorms, one of the other boys asked, "So how will the great Harry Potter react to his son being a Slytherin?"

Albus, without really even thinking about it, snapped back, "I'm not my father, and I can be in whatever house I choose!"

The boy grinned broadly, and held out his hand. "I'm Scorpius Malfoy and I'm not my dad either. Want to be my friend?"

Albus, after staring at the outstretched hand and its blond-haired, blue-eyed owner for a moment and trying to figure out if the boy was off his rocker, took his hand and shook it. It couldn't hurt to have a loony friend. After all, Albus' entire family was crazy. Scorpius would fit right in.


	3. Louis

A/N: I know these are supposed to be drabbles. I just...got a little carried away.

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3) Louis hates being 'just another Weasley' even more than Dom does.  
For as long as Louis could remember, teachers and adults alike had referred to him as 'Weasley', because there were too many other Weasleys to bother trying to keep one of them straight. Even Teddy had fallen prey to it once in a while, when his hair was any shade of orange.

Louis hated it so much that he convinced Dom to teach him cosmetic spells, and practiced them at night in the Hufflepuff bathroom when the other boys were asleep. Third year, at the very first Hogsmeade weekend, he cast two of the many ones his sister had given him out in the alley behind Honeydukes, after divesting himself of his Hufflepuff uniform and changing it out for jeans and a zip-up jumper.

He wandered back into the street with golden blond hair and iridescent sea-green eyes.

Nobody looked twice at him.

It was the best experience Louis had ever had without family or friends being involved. It was also the most freeing thing he had ever done. Louis reveled in it, and took to casting them any place where he would be by himself.

Louis never dreamed it would be possible to make it permanent. Mum went on and on about how his hair was just the most perfect shade of red _ever_ and Dad wasn't about to let him change it and risk Mum's ire. Louis, once he had mastered the spells, resigned himself to only being able to do it in private when he was alone.

That was until the Fateful Day, as he took to calling it.

Christmas break of his fourth year, two days after his birthday, he wandered into the Burrow's kitchen and was greeted by an explosion. He ducked and crouched, hands covering his neck, hoping it wouldn't hurt.

He was pleasantly surprised to find it was lukewarm liquid dripping down through his hair and onto his face and fingers.

"What's this?" he asked, as he uncurled from hugging his knees. "A Wheezes thing?"

"Uh…" George stared at him, and in true I-didn't-mean-to-do-it fashion, picked up his wand and slowly approached Louis from around the other side of the table. "I should be able to reverse this."

"Reverse _what_?"

George vanished the liquid, but was interrupted from doing anything else when Mum glided into the room and promptly, as James later termed it, 'flipped her shit, mate.' "_WHAT_?" he snapped. He glanced around the kitchen, and his eyes fell on the mirror above the sink.

His hair was splotched the same golden-blond shade he used as his disguise. It was still mostly red, but where the liquid had hit it on top was completely blond.

"Fix him _now_!" Mum screeched. "_Mon chéri_! Your hair!"

Louis' jaw dropped. George, perhaps sensing his imminent doom, lifted his wand and directed it at Louis' head. "Finite Incantatem!" he ordered.

His hair stayed stubbornly blond.

"Uh, Fleur, don't kill me, but that was a batch of a prototype permanent hair dye." George grinned at her, but it was merely to cover up his wince at Mum's fiery expression.

Louis ducked out of the kitchen and left his uncle to Mum, and went to find Grandma to see if she could fix it.

Grandma, after at least forty five minutes of spells, and about the same amount of time of dragging various aunts and uncles in and having them try as well, declared that it was definitely permanent.

It was also uniquely resistant to being spelled any other color.

Mum eventually threw her hands up in disgust and spelled his hair to be golden-blond all over. According to James, when Mum was ranting to Dad about it, blond was better than splotchy red, even if it did destroy his lovely red hair.

Later that afternoon, after nearly a full day of fuss and hubbub about it, Fred caught Louis out in the tree house, staring at himself with a mirror, and threw his arms around him for an uncharacteristically enthusiastic hug. "Happy late birthday, mate," he said.

"What?"

"Just don't tell your mum we planned it, she'll kill us all." Fred ruffled his hair, dodged Louis' flailing fists, and slipped down the ladder and shot across the yard.

Louis smiled to himself, and made a mental note to thank George.

Anybody willing to create a potion specifically to thwart the terrors of one of the Weasley wives deserved a medal, doubly so for even nailing the correct shade.

When Louis returned to school, one of his teachers (one of the ones infamous for calling _all_ of them Weasley, even the girls) stopped him on his way into class and demanded to know who he was.

"Louis Weasley, ma'am," he said, delighted.

"Whatever did you do to your hair?" she asked. Louis glanced over his shoulder at the few people waiting for him to move and let them into the Muggle Studies class, and then grinned at the professor.

"Potions accident. It's irreversible." He headed to his seat, a new bounce in his step, and even though he had to field questions from nearly everybody he knew on why, exactly, he was no longer a redhead, he finally began to feel like his own person, and not just another Weasley.

It was a glorious thing, to finally be an individual.


	4. Lucy

A/N: Again with the fail!drabble...

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4) Lucy doesn't know how to tell Percy that she doesn't want to be the Perfect one.  
For as far back as Lucy could remember, she'd been trained up to be the Perfect one. Perfect student, perfect daughter, perfect child. She'd never really had friends- from about when she learned how to read by herself, she'd chosen books over the company of children her age. They scared her, especially her cousins. Roxanne, Hugo, and Lily were all her age, and they were loud, rambunctious, and terrifying. Whenever they managed to drag her into one of their plots, Dad would be horribly disappointed with her, and she'd revert deeper into her shell.

By the age of twelve, she had more or less separated herself from her family in favor of schoolwork. Hugo said, on her thirteenth birthday, that she might as well have not been a Weasley. He said she wasn't worth their time and that she shouldn't bother even coming to family get-togethers anymore.

Lucy took his words to heart.

Christmas of her second year was the last one she spent at the Burrow.

In fifth year, after managing her Prefect duties and those of the Hufflepuff Prefect's after a tragic accident removed her from school, Lucy still made top marks in her year. Nobody was surprised that it was her, least of all her father.

He had the gall to tell her that her one EE should have been an Outstanding.

Lucy stared at the swinging kitchen door after Percy left through it. She stood there, staring, and against her desperate tries to prevent it, tears pooled in her Weasley blue eyes and ran down her freckled cheeks.

She spent most of the rest of summer avoiding him and scrounging up every book she could on Arithmancy, her one EE.

She actually ran into Lily in Flourish and Blotts, to their mutual surprise.

"What, not busy studying?" Lily quipped, but it didn't hold the barbs it would have if it had come from Hugo. Lucy hefted the heavy tome in her arms up, and let Lily take it to glance over it. "Advanced Arithmancy? Whatever floats your boat, I guess." Lily quirked her lips in a mockery of a smile and she held the book out. Lucy took it back and ducked her head. She didn't see Lily shake her head, but she heard the sigh her cousin heaved before stepping around her and moving on down the length of the shelf.

Summer vacation passed in a blur of parchment, broken quills, and silent crying into her pillow at night.

Sixth year brought an additional stress that Lucy was utterly unprepared for. A boy by the name of Donny Aitkin began to show an interest in her, and took her lack of a vehement no to mean that she wasn't adverse to a relationship.

Before she realized what his smiles and attention meant, it was three months into the new year, and he invited her to Hogsmeade with him.

She accepted on the basis that she needed more parchment and her entire supply of quills was about out. Most of them were broken, in anger, when she was alone and tired and tetchy and didn't want to even think of writing another word. The ones she broke were shoved to the bottom of her trunk, a silent, terrifying reminder of what would happen if she slacked off.

Donny held her hand nearly the entire time, and even went so far as to press soft, wet kisses to her cheek or the top of her head. In public! In the middle of Scrivenshaft's Quills, and even in the Three Broomsticks when he dragged her in to buy her a butterbeer.

Dad disapproved of butterbeer on principle. Lucy stared at her mug of the frothy, foaming, deliciously scented drink, and wondered what he would say if he saw her in here.

When she came to the conclusion that it would likely make her cry, she picked up her mug with both hands, and drained it.

She thunked it down on the counter, determined not to let Dad invade her mind for once.

Lucy caught the Scamander twins staring at her. The Hufflepuff (she, while having been exposed to them virtually every time she found herself being dragged to the Burrow, still couldn't tell which was which) was blatantly staring at her, his eyebrows even with his hair. His absurd knitted cap that he wore day in and day out was in his hand. He looked like he'd just pulled it off and was in the process of ruffling his hair when he had caught sight of her. His brother's eyes widened a touch, before the person behind him jabbed him in the shoulder and he pulled his brother off to a booth in the back.

Lucy turned back to the mirror above the bar, and let out a tiny smile.

Donny let out a guffaw that startled her, and slammed down a few more sickles. "Another butterbeer, Madame?" he asked, as he shifted his stool closer to hers and slipped his arm around her waist. "You've got another believer!"

Lucy leaned into him, and when Roxanne slid onto the stool next to her and gave her a bright grin, Lucy felt herself returning it before she could think to stop it.

It felt…good.

She and Donny didn't last all that long; she broke up with him right before Christmas break, once she figured out that while it was nice to be kissed and held, she had begun to slip in her work and only a break's-worth of hard work could get it back up to par before the semester grades went out.

Donny said he understood. Lucy felt that he thought she was loony, for choosing her grades over him. He said there were no hard feelings. She felt that he was lying through his shiny white teeth.

And then, after break came and went and she found herself more and more often chewing on the tip of her quill, essay forgotten, as she wondered whether it really was possible to balance a boy and school, that she realized what her problem was.

She swept out of the library, desperate to find one of her cousins. Not Hugo- he had ceased to even acknowledge her existence- but if she could find Lily or Roxanne to speak with, maybe she would be able to figure it out?

Lucy ran into one of the Scamander boys before she could go much beyond the library corridor. She also knocked him to the floor, banged her head against his chin, and landed in a heap on top of him.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, barely before they even hit the cold stone floor. "I'm really, really sorry!" She sat up, still straddling his hips, and placed her hand on his cheek when he didn't move. "Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes, and she leaned forward more to peer into his clear blue eyes. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," he squeaked, "but it would be helpful if you would _move_."

Lucy scrambled off of him, and offered her hand. He glanced up at her, apparently looking over her slim form, before climbing to his feet without her help. "Watch where you're going next time. Where're you off to in such a rush anyhow?"

"I- uh…" She debated with herself for only a brief moment. His robes were lined with green, so he was the Slytherin twin; they could keep secrets really well, couldn't they? "I was looking for one of my cousins. I need to talk to somebody. Can I talk to you?"

He raised an eyebrow, but he nodded and turned back down the way he'd come. She hurried along behind his long-legged strides, and she followed him into an unused, dusty classroom.

"So what is it that left you, of all people, charging madly down a corridor?" he inquired, voice mostly devoid of emotion. He leaned against a desk and arranged his robes around him.

Lucy sat down on the bench on the other side of the desk in front of him, and folded her hands in her lap. "I realized something," she said. She brushed back her long, Weasley-red hair, and tucked it behind her unpierced ears. That was another thing Dad had frowned upon- he said they were unnecessary and pointless. "Did you know me and Donny Aitkin were dating?"

"You're not going to cry about how you lost the love of your life, are you? I'm really not who you want to talk to-"

"No, that's not it," she said. He crossed his arms and rested his eyes somewhere above her head. "I realized that I don't want to be perfect. And that I want to have a boyfriend, and that I want to be able to get an Exceeds Expectations instead of an Outstanding and not spend hours crying into my pillow about it. You know?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, and looked extremely thoughtful. His eyes rolled up the ceiling and stayed there as he thought out his words. "No, I don't know, actually, as that's never been something I've worried about. My parents aren't insane, Lucy, they don't care if I get one EE, or two, or even four, because it's still _exceeding the expectations_."

Lucy's eyes dropped to the floor, and she was sorely beginning to regret even asking to talk to him.

His robes rustled, and then her sight was invaded by black as he shoved the desk in front of her back and kneeled down. "Lucy, look at me?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, but met his eyes, and he rested his hands on her knees to balance himself. "If you don't want to be perfect, then _don't_ be. It's as simple as that. With your grades, even if you drop, I don't know, Arithmancy or Ancient Runes or something basically useless, you'll still get nearly any job you could possibly want."

"And if I don't want the one my dad's setting up for me?" she whispered, mostly to herself, but he smiled at her and answered with an equally soft "that too."

Lucy took his advice (she later discovered the Slytherin twin was Lorcan, and the one with the silly hat was Lysander) and as soon as the semester finals were over, went to Professor McGonagall and dropped both her Advanced Arithmancy class and her Ancient Runes.

All that was left was breaking the news to Dad.

Lucy wasn't sure how, or when, or even if she would still be allowed to live at home after it. Molly had been forced to stay with Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur after it came out that she was signed to the Harpies. Lucy's lip began to tremble at the very thought of it, and even though her stress in school was remarkably reduced, the reminder that she would have to deal with it sent her into a downward spiral of depression every time it came up.

Lucy was terrified, but she was also learning how to be determined for something other than school, and she would be _damned_ if she would give that newfound freedom up.


	5. Lily

A/N: So I've given up on writing drabbles. They're now mini-oneshots. I've no idea who I'm putting up tomorrow, but it's possibly looking like Fred. No ideas yet for Dominique and Victoire and Roxanne. Any thoughts?

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5) Lily does _not_ appreciate being babied for being both the youngest and the only girl of her parents' children.  
Her entire life, Lily had been babied and held back from things her brothers, and even her cousins, got to do. Play quidditch with Molly and the boys? Hah, no. "Too dangerous!" Mum said. "You can get hurt!" Dad said. "Your parents are bonkers, but they'll kill us if we let you," Bill and Charlie said.

As Lily had expected from the get-go, being denied playing quidditch was _nothing_ to wanting to date boys. Dad said flat-out that he would hex any boy who thought he was good enough for her, and Mum tried to sit her down and talk to her about how boys would say they loved you, but actually only wanted one thing.

It was enough to make her _sick_.

Lily complained to her parents about how they weren't treating her like the young adult they claimed she was, and they responded by ignoring her or yelling. She complained to Grandma, who said it was only normal for a girl to want to date, but felt that it was Mum and Dad's decision as to whether or not she would be allowed to have a boyfriend. She complained to Fleur as well, and Fleur sympathized greatly, but she was too busy trying to keep her own daughters from going crazy (one over boys, and one over her hatred of the entire planet) to be able to help Lily much beyond being a understanding ear.

One night in her fifth year, a few months after her sixteenth birthday, after yet another argument (via letters) with Mum, Lily stalked the hallways, muttering curses under her breath and hoping somebody would pick a fight with her so she could vent some of her anger out on them.

What she found was Scorpius Malfoy, wandering the halls and looking entirely too calm and happy for Lily's tastes. She glared at him with all her strength as she passed him, and to her angry pleasure, he stopped and stared at her as she stormed by him.

She was not pleased, however, when he jogged to catch up with her and grabbed her arm to turn her to face him.

Lily, already far beyond thinking rationally, grabbed his tie, pulled it down, and pressed her lips to his.

"Potter-?" he asked as soon as she let go to take a breath, confusion written plainly across his face.

"Shut the hell up. _Shut up_!" Lily released her death grip on his Slytherin tie without totally letting it go, and glanced around for a less-open place. Malfoy, gaping and obviously at a loss for what to do, docilely followed her as she dragged him to an alcove hidden behind a tapestry.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and she divested herself of her outer robes. She didn't answer verbally, but instead ran her hands through his long, silky blond hair and pressed herself up against his fit, deliciously toned body.

"Stop talking," she murmured against the corner of his mouth.

He followed her order, and pushed against her until she was pinned up against the wall and lifted her so her legs wrapped around his waist. Their kisses quickly turned from warm and soft to hard and wet, and somewhere along the line, both of their ties went missing, and Lily's blouse was unbuttoned down far enough for Scorpius' mouth to go wherever he pleased.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed into her ear, as one hand slipped up her thigh under her skirt and fingered the elastic of her underwear. "Say the word and I'll stop."

Lily leaned her head back against the wall, chest heaving, and she made an attempt to get her breathing under control. Scorpius leaned his head against her shoulder, and pressed small kisses to her collarbone.

"Whatever you do, _don't_ stop," she managed to say, finally, when she was sure she was coherent enough to talk. "Just don't stop."

Looking back on the encounter, Lily was sure that her first time could have been much better than a transfigured mattress hidden inside an alcove behind a tapestry in the middle of Hogwarts, but at the same time, she was sure that anything else would pale in comparison to the adventure- and the boy- she had experienced in that one night. Scorpius had been amazingly considerate, had made it as pain-free as he could manage for an utterly inexperienced virgin, had treated her like the angel Dad insisted she was.

And had also apparently been hiding a crush on her for at least a year.

Lily decided, after hashing it out with many of her female cousins (Lucy excluded on the grounds that 'you know I can't keep a secret if people start asking!'), that while her parents would NEVER learn of how she and Scorpius got together, there was unlikely to be another boy who could be everything her dad expected of a suitable boyfriend for his baby girl, and yet still piss her parents off so badly that Lily was at risk of being grounded until she was dead.

Scorpius found the entire situation hilarious, and laughed so hard at Lily's explanation of why it was a really, _really_ bad idea for him to meet her parents in private that she feared she would have to take him to the hospital wing for treatment for passing out from a lack of air.

He then turned the tables, and kissed her with so much _oomph_ that he stole her breath away.

She couldn't honestly name another time she'd felt so sure of something being as good and true as Scorpius.


	6. Rose

A/N: I know I've been gone for a while, but I swear I had a good reason. Internet access is hard to come by in bootcamp. I'm back, but I'm not making any promises on regular updates- I'm pretty busy these days. Review and let me know what secrets you think the rest of the Weasleys are keeping. I still need ideas on James, Victoire, Dominique, Hugo, Fred, and Roxanne!

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That time that Rose accidentally blew up her potion and melted the ceiling wasn't actually an accident.

"This is going to be so boring," Al complained behind her as they pushed through the masses of students outside the Great Hall after breakfast. "2 hours of a lecture and laboratory? Alan said his class had to do it step by step with the professor because it's 'volatile'."

Rose shoved a couple of fourth years out of her way and pushed open the door down to the dungeons. "I heard that too, but it can't be that bad. It's not like it's really safe for us to do it ourselves, I heard that it's actually really easy to blow up if you're not careful. Louis said somebody in his class melted a table because they weren't paying attention."

Al got a thoughtful look on his face, and Rose matched it. "Nah, that'd be a bad idea," he said.

"Melting a table?" Rose questioned. Her smile got wider and Al got that calculating look on his face that meant he was thinking things that would probably result in hours upon hours of detention should they get caught.

"Please don't," somebody said behind them. "The last thing I need to deal with today is people intentionally melting furniture." Scorpius fell into step with the both of them. "Forsythe's gone and gotten sick again so I've been...invited...to take over prefect duties until he's better."

"That blows, mate," Al said. "Anyhow, furniture wasn't what I had in mind."

"You know what?" Scorpius said. "I'm just going to ignore the rest of this conversation on the grounds that if I don't hear it, I can't be held liable. Please don't cause too much damage."

Rose laughed. "Oh, calm down, how much trouble can we possibly get into?"

Scorpius mumbled something to the tune of "I still remember what you did fourth year" but denied saying anything when Rose demanded to know what he said.

Class turned out to be as bad as Al had expected. The professor went through each step at least three times, and kept stopping them to ask if anybody had any questions. When they got to the part where explosions tended to happen, Rose took notice of an asterisk, and read the footnote written in tiny font at the bottom of the page. "Excessive powdered dragonroot combined with excessive heat can cause this potion to react danerously with nonorganic materials," it read.

"Now, remember to turn down your flames before continuing with the next step!" Professor Hawley said. "Everybody, turn down your heat before you measure your dragonroot out!"

Rose glanced around; most of her classmates did as they were bid and raised their wands to lower the flames on their cauldrons. She met Al's eyes, and he jerked his head towards his cauldron, with the still-raised flame. "I've got it," he mouthed. She nodded in response, but right as she turned to grab her wand, the professor boomed out behind her, "Mister Potter! Your flame?"

Al jerked and instinctively grabbed his wand. Rose cursed, and grabbed her powdered dragonroot before the professor could see her flame. She dropped her entire vial of dragonroot in her cauldron, then faked a scream as the potion started to bubble ominously.

"Miss Weasley!" Professor Hawley screeched. "What did I tell you-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the potion exploded, sending purple globs everywhere.

Rose gasped, covered in liquid that was not as warm as it should have been. It dripped down her forehead and she scrunched her eyes shut and flailed at it to keep it out of her eyes.

"What have you done?" the professor demanded once the screaming stopped and people realized that they weren't dying or melting. "You could have killed us all!"

"The potion's not dangerous to organic materials, Professor," Rose said. "It says so in the book."

A few seconds after she said that, before Professor Hawley managed to gather herself for a proper screaming, something dripped down and thunked on the floor between Rose and the professor.

Rose glanced up, and stared in horror. The ceiling was sizzling and melting, but the stone was solidifying and slamming into the floor below. "Every out!" she screamed. "Now!"

Some of the students started to argue, but those who were paying attention started towards the door. Scorpius started yelling orders and shoving people through the door, and Professor Hawley seemed to be in a state of shock. "Professor?" Rose asked as she and Al grabbed her arms. "It's time to leave.

By the time the teachers got the melting under control and stopped it spreading to other rooms, Rose had racked up a good fifty hours of detention for destruction of school property. They couldn't prove she'd done it on purpose, and the best they could yell at her for was being incrediblt stupid, but Rose felt that most of her teachers suspected it was intentional. Insofar as Rose had planned to see what would go wrong, it had been; the ceiling itself was mostly just an unintended side effect.


	7. Roxanne

Roxanne: Roxanne moved to the United States for her degree in business to avoid her family and their 'help' in learning how to run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Fred rapped his knuckles on Roxanne's door and pulled her attention away from the book in her hands. "Hey, Roxy, you got a minute?" He wandered into her room without waiting for a reply and glanced over the things spread out on her bed. "When was the last time you really unpacked your trunk?" he asked as his eyes alighted on a returned essay from her second year, crumpled nearly beyond recognition. "Geez, this is even worse than mine!"

"I didn't realize it was that bad," Roxanne admitted. She shoved things aside and Fred sat on the edge of her bed and dug through the clothes, books, and wads of parchment, amongst other unrecognizable things. "Was there something you wanted?" she prompted.

"Huh? Yeah. Dad wants to talk to us about who wants to take over the company. Ginny wants to go back to full time journalism and Dad thinks it's time to let us have a go."

"Oh," Roxanne said, startled. She was quickly approaching her eighteenth birthday and she'd known sooner or later it would happen, but she'd never thought it'd be dumped on them so quickly. "Now?"

"Of course not, dork," Fred said, grinning. "Dad's not cruel. Or crazy! No, he wants us to figure out who wants to do what so we can start learning what to do."

Roxanne moved a pile of clothes, a month old but still with the tags attached, off of her desk, and sat on it. "So soon though?" she asked. "You're only twenty, I'm not even eighteen. That's hardly old enough to live on my own, let alone own a company the size of Wheezes!"

Fred shrugged. "I personally don't want any of it. If you want to have full ownership, that's more than fine by me." At Roxanne's panicked expression, he hastened to explain. "I mean, I don't think I'm suited for running it. I'm not gonna abandon you to it, sis!" He laughed, and Roxanne relaxed a bit. The thought of being the sole owner of Dad's company? She was sure it'd be run into the ground within a year. "I'll always be here to help, but actually making the decisions?" Fred shuddered. "Now that's an awful thought."

"Yeah..." Roxanne trailed off. To be fair to Dad, though, it wasn't like she'd ever planned any sort of career besides taking over Wheezes. From a young age, she'd known Dad wanted it to go to her and Fred, and Fred was floating aimlessly around from job to job, practically waiting for Dad to speak up and start letting them know what he wanted them to be doing.

"Anyways," Fred said as he bounced off her bed to his feet. "Let me know what you decide. Dad also said not to rush it, since it won't happen for a few more years at least, but he said to just be aware that he's thinking about it."

"Thanks." Roxanne waved Fred out of her room and flopped across her bed. The nib off a quill jabbed her and she slid off her bed onto the floor, she she heaved a huge sigh. Life just got complicated and she wasn't sure that it was a welcome complication.

Eventually, Roxanne came to the conclusion that Dad wouldn't throw her to the sharks and let her fend for herself in it, and went to speak to him about maybe possibly attending one of the new, fancy-sounding Wizarding colleges. About that time was when it all started to go to pot.

Aunt Ginny, as lovable as she was, was the least helpful. "It's not hard at all, Roxy," she said once, or twice, or half a million times, "It's just like managing the register at the store, only on a bigger scale. You don't need to attend an expensive school to learn it."

Roxanne tried to protest, but Ginny steamrolled right over her and simply repeated herself. "You don't need a fancy school," she insisted.

Hermione was similarly unhelpful, but from another point of view. "Running a business can be so complex," she said when Roxanne started to complain about Ginny's lack of advice. "There's no one solid way to do it, and you're doing to butt heads with the other people in charge. There's nothing that can be done about it. I don't know that these new colleges are all they're cracked up to be, but if that's what you think is the right thing to do..."

Finally, one night out at the Burrow, a few weeks before the admissions slots began to open for the colleges Roxanne was interested in, right when George said once and for all that he didn't think the school was worth it, and he'd rather just have her start working as an intern and 'work' her way up, she finally snapped and ranted at Aunt Audrey, who unfortunately happened to be in the room at the time. "Why do they all think they know how to do it?" she yelled. Audrey, who'd never seen Roxanne raise her voice, sat her down and asked to hear what was going on.

"Dad wants me and Fred to take over the business, right?" she said. Audrey nodded; they'd all been hearing about it for months. "And Fred's like, he doesn't want to be involved in it, he's happy living off his inheritance and everything, so basically I'm going to be doing everything, but everybody's got their own opinion on how I should do it and they'll all be offended if I don't, and they're all wrong, except maybe Hermione, and I really want to at least try university because American wizards do it and they're not doing half bad, so why can't I try it too?"

Roxane fell back against the couch with a huff and crossed her arms. Even as an adult, she still felt like such a child, an nobody was helping matters by making her decisions feel pathetic and weak.

"May I offer my opinion?" Audrey asked, after a few moments of thoughtful silence. "You should go. Get out of Britain, and try one of those American universities. At least get away from everybody's opinions for a little while. Maybe manage one of the stores Stateside in the summer to get a feel for it. You've got your own inheritance, it should be more than enough. And if it isn't, and your dad won't help, you know Hermione at least can't say no to furthering your education." Audrey smiled, and gave Roxanne a hug. "They don't need to know that's why you're going- if anybody fusses over it, just tell them you're touring America for a few years to get it all out of your system before settling into the company."

"You're the best, you know that?" Roxanne said. Audrey shrugged; neither of her own daughters had done what their father had laid out for them; one was a starting Beater for a professional Quidditch team and the other...Audrey tried not to think about why Lucy always smelled faintly of explosives, but her job kept her occupied. Roxanne should have the freedom that she needed before George pushed her into Wheezes.

"I'm gonna do it," Roxanne. "I'm going to move to America, and go to an American university, and everybody who says otherwise can go hang."

"That's the spirit."

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A/N: Over 360 views and not a single review? You guys really know how to inspire more chapters, don't you.

Ignoring the sarcasm, I can't get better unless y'all tell me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Did something stick out to you that you particularly liked or disliked? Is there a secret you'd like to see for Victoire, Dominique, Hugo, James, and Fred?


	8. Hugo

Hugo is damn proud to be a Weasley, and that's his biggest fault.

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Hugo, as one of the youngest four of the Weasley/Potter conglomeration (yeah, he is capable of reading, piss off, James!) saw a whole lot growing up. He saw Dominique go from a painfully geeky preteen to a perpetually angry girl who hated the whole world (but mainly her family). He knew, without really having much proof, that Louis hated being just another Weasley and was thrilled when George "accidentally" dyed his hair blond. He knew that Molly had chosen to go for the Harpies instead of going into Healing not because she really only wanted to play Quidditch, but because she needed to feel separated from her family. She needed to make a name for herself.

Hugo knew Lucy was one of his only cousins who didn't really care one way or another, but she was hardly even a Weasley; she chose her books over her family and even when Hugo finally understood why, it still infuriated him to the point where the filter between his mouth and mind shut down and everything spilled out.

"Why don't you come outside with us?" Roxanne asked Lucy, her scarf halfway wrapped around her neck and her gloves in hand. "We're gonna have a snowball fight."

Lucy, sprawled across one of Grandma's recliners, with a book on her lap, didn't even look up to acknowledge her cousin. "I'm busy."

Hugo heard the short exchange as he trotted down the stairs from Dad's old room, where he and Al were staying over break. He stopped at the bottom and stared incredulously at her. "Are you serious?" he asked, his eyebrows rising of their own free will. "You're too busy reading a book to hang out with us?"

Lucy did look up at that, and she cocked her head. "Some of us have higher aspirations, and that means hard work, Hugo. Please don't bother me." She dropped her eyes back to her book, and Hugo's mind briefly tossed the thought around that he should leave before he did something stupid.

He'd never really listened to that voice, and at twelve, wasn't about to start. "Higher aspirations are more important than family, then?" he demanded. Above him, a door slammed, and he abruptly lowered his voice. "Why do you even both coming here?"

Lucy stared at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, but Hugo continued on before she could form a coherent retort. "You're barely even a Weasley, you know that? The only thing you've got in common with any of us is your last name and you don't even deserve that."

Lucy was somewhat avenged by Harry coming down the stairs behind him and walloping him something good on the back of his head, but that didn't stop her from bolting past the both of them up the stairs, her book forgotten and her sobs echoing throughout the house.

Harry grabbed Hugo by the collar and dragged him outside, where he found Mum and told her word-for- word what had come out of Hugo's mouth.

He soon found himself grounded from all family Quidditch games, Hogsmeade weekends, trips to Diagon Alley, and essentially anything that would let him out of his room or the kitchen for meals.

The absolute worst part was when Grandma caught wind of it and guilt-tripped him to within an inch of crying for what he said.

He escaped upstairs as soon as he could from the angry adults filling the house, and the disappointed look Audrey was giving him. As he was passing the door to the room Lucy's crying was emanating from, he knocked stiffly on the door.

Lucy pulled it open and dashed angrily at her tears. She glared up at him, and the hand not holding the door open fisted at her side. "What do you want?" she asked, voice wavering as a new flood of tears began to build up.

Hugo looked away, uncomfortable and still furious, and mumbled, "I apologize for my behavior."

Lucy stared at him, eyes narrowed. She shook her head, and clenched her jaw. "Piss off, you asshole," she said, before slamming the door in his face.

From then on, Hugo refused point-blank to talk to her. It was her fault, he knew it! She was the one refusing to be a part of the family.

As he sulked in the attic, tucked up under the eaves behind a stack of old trunks, he internally ranted about how unfair it all was. Dominique was allowed to rant ad nauseum about how much it sucked to be categorized by who her family was, and all the punishment she got for hating on them all was hugs and "you'll grow out of it, sweety" and other crap like that.

Louis hadn't been any better, with his stupid charms (he thought it was some sort of huge secret but all of them knew) and it just pissed Hugo off to no end how all of them were completely rejecting being a Weasley out of hand. They all raged against it, and Hugo was the only one who ever got in trouble for voicing his opinions about it.

Man, he hated his family sometimes. There was so much to being a Weasley and the only thing any of them ever thought about was going against values and ideals.

Like Al! Him and his stupid best friend- like Malfoys even were capable of being friends with anybody who wasn't a pureblood. He hated Scorpius Malfoy and his entire family possibly as much as his dad did, but Al couldn't—wouldn't— understand why it was a bad thing to associate with them.

"Al, don't you know what he did to our parents?" Hugo asked, after witnessing the boys laughing together during the Welcoming feast. "They're a bad bunch! Look at his dad!"

Al rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, Hugo, am I my dad?"

"No-"

"And does being in Slytherin make me evil?"

"Of course it doesn't-"

"Scor isn't his dad, just like I'm not mine. You'd do well to be less like yours, though, you're being a right prat." Al shook his head at Hugo's spluttering and left him in the middle of the Entrance Hall. He pushed through the door leading down to the dungeons, and Hugo stared after him, stunned.

That had been the first time he'd seen, with his own two, Weasley-blue eyes, why family was so important. Without it, they'd do stupid things like make friends with the enemy.

Somehow, deep in his soul, he knew it was up to him to find a way to drag everybody back.

Just as long as Mum and Dad didn't find out, because he would probably he grounded until he was dead for even thinking of bringing up the subject.

If only he actually knew where to begin.

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A/N: This is the last one, for sure. I wrote this before I shipped out and only found it today, which is why I'm putting it up.


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